It had been weeks since she had seen her new friends. The lady had been making plans of her own. However, she did not propel herself too far lest she go to the point of no return. She would not leave the North until her agenda was complete. She has hired a trainer in Bree-town to help her with her martial skills, a task that made her feel like a mule, sweating profusely. The lady was not accustomed to such physical exertion. There is a first time for everything, though. Later that evening, the lady had returned to her room in the 'sorry' excuse for an inn, as she would like to call it. The Combe and Wattle. She bathed and rinsed all of the sweat from her body. Her aches and pains slowly dissipate in the warm bath. She almost relaxed until she heard a sound downstairs. A sound that brought back a memory, she thought, that she thoroughly tucked away.
Alas, the mind is a powerful thing. Music, it was music. But not just any music, Her music. A vision of long, luscious golden hair like her own. Appeared in her mind's eye. She is the only one who knows how haunting a fiddle is. Her Mother frequently played it behind a locked door when her Father was in one of his moods, and she wanted to be away from her lord husband. During those evenings, the Lady would sit outside her Mother's door as a child. Attention starved, and she knew her mother would eventually have to open the door.
It would go on so long that she'd fall asleep outside her Mother's chambers. Her Mother would find her on the ground. Then, take her back to bed if Nanny did not do so first. Leohild had a heart of ice, but it occasionally thawed. As far as her daughters were concerned. The lady sunk further into the warm water and stared emptily at the ceiling. "Wherever you are. I hope you are looking down at me and you're proud. I don't hate you, but I wish you could give more. That Father didn't turn your heart to stone. I will make our family whole again. There will be consequences, a reckoning."
